


This is Just to Say

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry Hart Lives, Harry and Eggsy are greater than your soap opera stars, Love Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But even if you've never absorbed any of my lessons, remember this: I love you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Just to Say

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post [ on tumblr.](http://annaofaza.tumblr.com/post/129055905543/after-the-movie-during-cleanup-merlin-gives)
> 
> "After the movie, during cleanup, Merlin gives Eggsy the letter Harry left for him in the event of his death or MIA. Harry loved him and didn't want to get involved due to his age and their jobs. *queue Not Dead Harry returning to face Eggsy"

Dear Eggsy,

I know you’ll hate me for writing this, instead of telling you face-to-face. A gentleman strives to be as frank with his feelings as the situation requires, yet also be considerate with others’ feelings. I’m afraid what I’m doing is cowardly. You do not deserve this, to read the warbling of a desperate man, trying to put more than a month’s worth of feelings, most intangible and unexplainable, onto a single sheet of paper.

But even if you’ve never absorbed any of my lessons, remember this: I love you.

I can’t say I loved you at first sight, but I can say that you lit up the world for me, slowly, as if I had been walking through dimness throughout my entire life, not noticing the path I treaded was beginning to brighten steadily, until I looked around and saw that the space I occupied was filled with light. Eggsy, you’re an unexplainable force that blindsided me when I least expected it.

You’re funny and kind and cheeky and brave and loyal and persistent. I love the way you’re curious about everything, the way you don’t hesitate to speak your mind, and the way you shake your martinis like maracas. I love your laughter, your winks, and your indignant outbursts. I can’t tell you honestly that I love your winged shoes or yellow-plated jacket, but since those are what you apparently are fond of, what can I do? Such trivial factors will not stop me.

But how can I explain this next part so you don’t think you’re not worthy? You’re worthier than you think you are, and I’ve been trying my best to tell you this throughout our time together.

The fault is me, Eggsy. You may not say that you care, but I’m old. I could be your father—in fact, I’m older than your father. I proposed him when he was nearly your age. You’re on that road where endless possibilities lie ahead. It will be difficult, but you can easily find someone to love down the road, whose knees won’t give out while walking through Hyde Park with you or who’d eventually need to be put in a home after the one hundredth time the stove has been left on at home. I took so many futures from you when I recruited your father, and I have no desire to rob you of more.

And if you became Lancelot…Eggsy, times are different from when I was first recruited. You don’t have to hide your sexuality, but you must know that, in addition to being a classist snob, Arthur is also rather homophobic. He has this ridiculous notion of being “discrete,” even though nearly half of his staff is decidedly not heterosexual. Percival and the previous Lancelot were lovers for years. But I digress…

Kingsman is the most dangerous job in the world. If I didn’t die due to old age, I would go, very unexpectedly, on a mission. And if you ever went the same way as your father, after I dragged you into this life-sucking organization…I would never be able to forgive myself.

And this is what this letter is warning you about, Eggsy. I’ve always written letters like this, every month, to the ones I would leave behind. If I am MIA, I am confident that if the circumstances are favorable, you will find me. If retrieval missions are not feasible, don’t feel as if you’ve failed. Kingsman is the epitome of discretion and often will pull out if there’s a danger of drawing too much attention in our search efforts. Sometimes, Eggsy, things are not meant to be found.

And if I’ve died, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for burdening you with this. Loss is frequent in Kingsman, but the first silenced breath is the hardest. I cannot say that sorrow fades, but it gets easier to bear. It will be easier, even though it might not seem so now. I promise you, Eggsy, you will carry on. Please don’t use my death as an excuse to stop. I want you to keep living.

All my love,

Harry

* * *

 “How could you give this to me, Merlin?” Eggsy now demands, thrusting the wrinkled paper at him. His chest is heaving, his eyes and nose are red-rimmed, and his clothes are the same ones from yesterday. “How could you…”

The quartermaster turns from his desk, back to the busy screens. “I thought you would want to read his last words. He would be proud of you—”

“And I’m tired of _hearin’_ that. Percival and Amelia and all the other agents keep tellin’ me. I don’t _want_ this.” Eggsy stubbornly shakes his head, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair has a familiar gleam of being unwashed, and Merlin notices that his cuticles are ragged and bright pink. “Harry was right disappointed in me before he left—he never should have…”

“Never should have _what_ , lad?” Merlin snaps, tired from the clean-ups and worldwide chaos and trying to keep the whole organization and its ragtag assortment of agents from fraying at the seams. Eggsy isn’t the only one who’s lost someone. Merlin refuses to tolerate the chip on Eggsy’s shoulder. “Never should have met you? Recruited you? Cared for you?”

Eggsy’s cheeks flush, as he clutches the letter to his chest like a chest. “You _read_ my letter?”

“I don’t have to read any fucking letter, Eggsy!” Merlin shouts, frustrated. “It was clear as day that Harry Hart was _gone_ on you.” He then gentles his voice: “Roxy tells me you haven’t slept in ages, and you haven’t even gone home, save once. You can’t sleep in HQ forever. You can afford a flat, and your family—”

“And tell them what? That I’m a fuckin’ tailor?”

“If that’s what it takes. You’re _Kingsman_ , Eggsy, damned the dog test.”

“What’s my codename, then?” the lad snarls. _“Galahad?”_

Merlin flinches. “It is, if you want it.”

Eggsy bites down furiously on his lip. His hands are shaking so much that the paper is beginning to rattle. “Then, we’re just givin’ up on him? We’re replacin’ him so soon? You call yourself Harry’s friend—“

It’s a good thing that Merlin’s monitor beeps, otherwise his fingers would be wrapped tightly around the boy’s throat, rather than typing furiously at the keys.

An alert pops up. The words say: _Agent Galahad, detected. Code name, activated. Location: Kentucky, USA. For specific coordinates…_

Both of them simply stare, tension slowly dissipating, until Merlin mutters, “What am I waiting for?” and activates the search teams.

* * *

 “You shouldn’t have told me in a fuckin’ letter,” Merlin hears Eggsy mutter from the back of the plane. He taps the steering wheel, hoping the two would eventually settle down enough for both of them to get some well-needed rest. Roxy is passed out in the seat beside him, snoring, as the small team of doctors watches the drama unfold from the monitor.

“I know, my dear boy,” Harry replies, bandage wound tightly around his head, covering his right eye. One of his hands is clasped in Eggsy’s, the other lying on his chest. “I should have told you. I should have told you from the day I realized, every day—”

Merlin hears of the doctors, Ian, mutter, “Come on, come on…”

Eggsy groans. “You’re a real dramatic guy, ain’t you? Merlin and I were having a right row when _suddenly_ you pop back into the picture. Not that I mind, of course.” He squeezes the hand in his. “It’s a godammned miracle.”

Beside Ian, Natalie puts one hand over her heart, as Merlin watches Harry run his thumb up and down Eggy’s knuckles, looking utterly besotted. “Eggsy. When I return to Kingsman…we should have a talk. About our…relationship. I don’t—“

“You don’t want it?” Eggsy mutters angrily. “Then why all that banging on about light and describing my face and all that _love_ shit in my letter? I thought a gentleman was supposed to be _considerate of others’ feelings—“_

“Of course I do!” For an instant, his vitals spike, and the doctors begin to stand, before they settle down rather quickly. Ian still watches the monitor with an intense gaze. “Goddamnit, Eggsy, of course I do. But you have to understand that we can’t just—we can’t be _normal_ —god, this was easier when I was writing all of this down—you’ll have to deal with this—“ he waves his hand around the room, nearly yanking out his IV. “Eggsy, I could _die_.”

“So, why wait? Life is short.”

“Mine’s shorter.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “And do you think I care ‘bout that? Even if my lifespan is, oh, what, ten seconds, I’d want to spend them all with you.”

This time, Natalie and Ian both utter a soft _awwww._

Merlin pretends the cockles of his heart haven’t stirred.

“You’re so bloody _stubborn_ ,” Harry almost whispers, but tugs Eggsy so he can lie on the bed with him. Eggsy does, rolling over carefully, keeping their hands interlocked.

“So, since you’re Galahad, who am I going to be?” he asks, idly. “Did Galahad have a lover?”

“Galahad was chaste for his entire life.”

“Fuck that,” Eggsy says, and pulls Harry in.

Merlin sighs when the heart rate monitor wails.


End file.
